


Call the Doctor

by recoveringrabbit



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Academy Era, Canon Compliant, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-26
Updated: 2016-05-26
Packaged: 2018-07-10 08:39:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6975955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/recoveringrabbit/pseuds/recoveringrabbit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which we learn why Doctors Fitz and Simmons made a reappearance this year.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Call the Doctor

“Will you pass the acid, Doctor Simmons?”

There he went again. Jemma tightened her face another degree and shoved the beaker towards her new lab partner with a touch more force than was probably sound safety practice. Not seeming to notice her pique, he accepted it soberly and went back to work without even a thank you, no doubt to do something brilliant that would come to fruition just as the professor came by. And then he would pretend modesty while the professor fawned over him, stammering out responses and sneaking glances at her to make sure she noticed his cleverness. As though she could do anything else. That _infuriating_ boy. It simply defied the natural order of things that someone that pasty and grumpy and handsome and brilliant should be her mortal enemy. But so, apparently, Leopold Fitz was.

Jemma tossed her hair as well as she could with it pulled tightly back and returned resolutely to her own part of the assignment, determined to best him. Of the two of them, _she_ was the only one with a degree in chemistry.

They worked in silence for another few minutes, Jemma diligently avoiding any acknowledgement of his presence. He appeared to be doing the same to her. Until, that is, his bony elbow slammed into her bicep, jostling her whole arm and ruining her careful measurements. Her strangled gasp mingled with his startled “hey!” as they reached for the beaker at the same time. “Do be careful!” she snapped, and he raised both hands in surrender.

“Sorry, Doctor Simmons, I only needed the—”

Reaching up, she retrieved the vacuum pump from the shelf and set it down—carefully, but with prejudice—before him. If her hands hadn’t been gloved, she would have crossed her arms in front of her. “Why do you do that?” she demanded.

Somehow, his eyes seemed bluer with his panic. “Do what?”

“Call me _doctor_ , like you’re making fun. With everyone else it’s _cadet_ or just _Simmons_ , but you _insist_ on—”

“I’m not making fun,” he blurted out, “you don’t like it?”

The question stopped her mid-rant. Like it? She had never considered it. It was just another of the thousand strange and irritating and intriguing things about him; it didn’t demand any sort of emotional opinion one way or the other. Never mind it obviously did matter. Never mind he was the only one to ever use her hard-earned title anymore. He couldn’t just act like he was different from everyone else (though, clearly, he was).

“We’re called cadets,” she said, hoping her voice didn’t actually sound as uncertain as she felt it did.

He shrugged, ducking his head between his shoulders so his curls fell into his eyes. “Yeah, I know, but you worked hard for them.”

“Not that hard,” she said quickly. Just because he recognized her second doctorate didn’t mean she could let her guard down.

“No, I didn’t mean,” he said just as quickly, “but you earned it, and now nobody uses it.”

“We’re all doctors here, though, so it doesn’t signify anything.”

“Not all doctors twice over.” He flapped a hand, not meeting her eyes. “It signifies something to me. I liked being Doctor Fitz. But it’s dumb. I’ll stop. Sorry.” Then he sucked in a deep breath, set his lips in a firm line, and started applying the vacuum to the apparatus in front of him.

Jemma stood without moving, watching him with her head tipped to one side. He’s right. She’d become used to _cadet_ and even begun to look forward to _agent_ , but neither title had ever graced the margins of her notebooks or the message pad by her family telephone. She had planned on being Doctor Jemma Simmons since she was five years old and worked steadily toward that goal the eleven years since; the title wasn’t just honorary, but encompassed everything she had done with her life so far. Of course it was significant. And he, who had done almost the same thing, would never make a mockery of it. _Doctor Simmons_ wasn’t a joke—he offered her the name as a sign of respect. One, she realized sharply as she really listened to his words, that he wished someone would offer him.

So maybe he didn’t despise her. Maybe, there was a chance they could be what she had hoped all those months ago, the first time he answered a question in Intro to Biotech and she had been momentarily unable to breathe because of the overwhelming sense of recognition and _rightness_ that had washed over her.

“D—um, Cadet Simmons? Am I doing it wrong?”

Coming back to the room with a sudden start, she met his confused gaze and flushed, scrambling for words so he wouldn’t guess why she’d been staring. “Er, no, I—I’m not actually sure—that is, what exactly are you doing?”

_(For the next twelve years of their lives, Fitz will think his stumbling, awkward, and admittedly brilliant answer to her equally stumbling and awkward question convinced her he was worth her time and attention. Eventually, though, Jemma will explain to him through laughing kisses that she already knew all that, idiot._

_“But you said it was fascinating!” he’ll protest, and she’ll roll her eyes before kissing him again.)_

“Fascinating, Doctor Fitz,” she breathed.

“It’s just physics,” he said, and then he smiled at her—really, properly smiled, with his teeth and his eyes and a slight red tint at his ears that could not be explained away by his habit of pulling at them as he spoke. And then disappeared almost as soon as it flashed into existence, settling into a slight turn-up at the corners of his mouth and a frown of concentration, not temper, and another intelligent observation that set her synapses firing.

And then she knew that this pasty, grumpy, handsome, brilliant boy was decidedly _not_ her mortal enemy.

And then she knew that whatever happened next, her whole life had just changed.

**Author's Note:**

> Look! I wrote something short!
> 
> When they were working on Creel's blood and Jemma called Fitz "doctor" it stuck out to me, particularly because they were in the middle of starting over. I wondered if there had been a period where they called each other doctor instead of agent, and why that might be, and voila! this idea was born. We've had more instances since then, from both sides, but I think this is still possible. They seem like the kind of people whose pet names say "I respect you and your mind."


End file.
